


Pulse

by warqueenfuriosa



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Drama, F/M, GalacticFanaticAUChallenge, Reader-Insert, Smut, basically an excuse to write cassian in a sexy suit, no shame no regrets, tw: mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warqueenfuriosa/pseuds/warqueenfuriosa
Summary: Modern Spy AU. Fem!Reader is a brand new spy and Cassian is her handler. She tries to get him to lighten up a little but he takes his job seriously and makes sure that she understands she should do the same. It’s only when Reader gets hurt and Cassian feels the life slipping away from her, his hand on her pulse, that he comes to realize how much he relies on her boundless enthusiasm to get him through the dark days.





	Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the #GalacticFanaticAUChallenge on tumblr, run by the amazing @the-new-fanfic-order and incredible @fandom-writes. Hope you liked it and feel free to say hi on tumblr @warqueenfuriosa

I sighed and rested my forehead against the window of Cassian’s car.

“This is _not_ exciting,” I said.

“This is part of the job,” Cassian replied. He slumped in the driver’s seat, arms crossed, baseball cap pushed low over his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was dozing a bit.

I hadn’t been around Cassian for very long, a few months by now, and the one thing I’d learned about him was that he took his work at MI-6 very seriously. And he expected everyone else to do the same. Especially me.

He was definitely not napping on the clock.

I shifted in my seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position. For four hours, Cassian and I had been sitting here, watching the diner across the street, waiting for one of Krennic’s men to show up in the hopes that Cassian could corner him, bring him back to headquarters and pressure him for information.

But four hours had passed with nothing to show for it.

“So…” I said, tracing patterns on the window in the condensation from my breath. “When do we call it quits and head home?”

“Just keep an eye on the diner.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Cassian made no response and I gritted my teeth. The second thing I’d learned was that I couldn’t get one goddamn word out of him if he didn’t feel like talking, which was about ninety percent of the time.

I huffed and crossed my arms, one foot propped on the dashboard.

“Feet on the floor,” Cassian grunted. “Don’t scuff up my car.”

I shot him a dirty look, slid my foot from the dashboard, and stomped on the floor. A minute ticked by. Then another. A little old lady wandered into the diner.

My gaze started to drift, taking in the streets, the people passing by, before settling on Cassian. I caught a glimpse of his hand, tucked beneath his elbow. When he was assigned to me as my handler, I hadn’t paid much attention to the black leather gloves he wore.

But then, on a job in the Mexican desert, he never took them off. Not once. Even when the heat made my tank top stick to me like a second skin. Even when his car overheated, stalled on the side of the road, and didn’t cool down for half the day.

“Do you ever take your gloves off?” I asked.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?”

“No. You taught me that. Question everything. Trust nothing and no one.”

Cassian gave a small, barely there growl and tipped his head back against the seat.

“I’m your handler.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“I’m the exception. Don’t question me.”

I opened my mouth to protest when Cassian sat up straight, gaze fixed on the diner across the road. Before I could say anything, he’d already pushed his door open, climbed out and bent over to look in the window at me.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Hell no. I’m coming with you.”

“Stay in the car,” he repeated, slowly enunciating each word. “If it goes south, I don’t need you getting caught in the crossfire.”

I slouched in my seat, watching Cassian slip into the diner. The blinds were drawn half way shut, blocking most of the interior from view. It made the waiting a thousand times worse, sitting there with no visual, hoping things hadn’t turned sour inside with no way to tell.

Then the door opened and a man came out, Krennic’s man, I would guess, judging by the way he split into a dead run. Cassian burst onto the sidewalk a handful of precious seconds later but he was already too far behind. He couldn’t make up that kind of ground.

As Krennic’s man hurtled past me, I didn’t think, only reacted. I gripped the handle of the door, tucked my shoulder in tight, and shoved my weight against it. Krennic’s man collided with the door. My shoes skidded an inch or two on the pavement at the force of his impact. He dropped flat on his back, stunned just long enough for Cassian to catch up.

Cassian wrestled Krennic’s man to his feet and shot me a scathing look but I jumped in before he could scold me.

“Technically, I stayed in the car,” I pointed out.

“Still a risky move,” he countered.

“So was going in there without back up.”

Cassian’s jaw twitched and I knew I was walking the thinnest ice, thin as tissue paper.

“I had it taken care of,” he said, his tone carefully controlled and measured in the most dangerous way.

“I did, too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes skyward with a heavy sigh and shoved Krennic’s man in the back seat of the car. As he pulled into the chaos of London traffic, Krennic’s man piped up.

“My head is bleeding,” he said.

“Shut up,” Cassian said.

I twisted around in my seat to see a thin trail of blood seeping from a cut on his left temple. Cassian glanced at me for confirmation and I shrugged.

“He’ll live,” I said.

“Don’t I get some kind of medical treatment?” Krennic’s man said. “I have rights, you know.”

“Of course you do,” Cassian replied. “As soon as you cooperate and tell us what we want to know about Krennic and who he’s trading illegal weapons to.”

Krennic’s man frowned, flopped back against his seat.

“Your little girlfriend,” he muttered, “gave me one hell of a headache with that stunt.”

And Cassian _laughed_ , the bastard. It wasn’t a full blown, genuine laugh but there was a certain level of amusement to it and that was more than I’d been able to get out of him.

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend,” he said, with more emphasis than necessary. “You’re lucky you’ve only got a headache, buddy. She’s been a pain in my ass for the past six months.”

For a beat of silence, I was too shocked to respond. Then I aimed a punch at Cassian’s shoulder but he caught my wrist without looking at me.

“No hitting,” he said, like I was a child that needed to be reprimanded.

Cassian released my wrist at the same time that I jerked away and my elbow smacked against the window, sending needles of pain rocketing all the way to my fingertips.

“You’re not a real joy to be around either,” I shot back.

“Girlfriend’s got a point,” Krennic’s man said.

Cassian cast a dark look in the rear view mirror and Krennic’s man shrugged.

“You could admit it,” I mumbled.

Cassian kept his gaze straight ahead. “Admit what?”

“I did well back there.”

“And that would achieve…what exactly?”

I blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d feel like I’m actually improving. I started this job because I want to make a difference. Sure as hell won’t do that sitting in the damn car all the time.”

Silence. I waited and waited. Cassian took a right, showing no indication of continuing the conversation. I raised my eyebrows and spread my hands.

“You’re not going to say anything at all?” I said.

Without warning, Cassian veered off into an alley, put the car into park so suddenly that I surged forward and my forehead almost hit the dashboard.

“Tone it down,” he said. The sheer brittle cold in his voice, pitched low and dark, made me go stock still. I’d seen this side of Cassian before many, many times, but it had never been directed at me and it was terrifying.

“You stay in the car for a reason,” he went on. “Keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open. Learn what you can now when it’s easy. It only gets harder from here. I know you’re just dying to get into the field and finally experience the excitement of action. But that alone shows you’re not ready. Not even close.”

The thrill of my earlier success vanished like smoke at Cassian’s words. But it was the sliver of disappointment carving through his voice that made it sting the most. I’d crossed a line, pushed too hard, too fast, and he’d expected better of me.

“Is that clear?” Cassian said, a little more gently this time.

“Yes,” I said, quiet and small.

Cassian put the car in reverse and the rest of the drive back to headquarters was silent.

***

Krennic’s man squealed like the pig that he is and tipped off a meeting between Krennic and a potential client in only a few weeks.

Of course I was not allowed to know particular details. I sat outside the interrogation room and Cassian fed me the pieces he wanted me to know, which was precious little.

But I didn’t push my luck with questions.

I was on my best behavior for the next two weeks, enduring whatever Cassian decided to put me through – mind numbing stake outs, grueling training sessions, mountains of paperwork – and I took it all in stride. Silent. Mouth shut. Eyes and ears open.

By the start of the third week, I was startled awake by relentless pounding on my bedroom door. I sat up, hand already beneath the pillow where I kept my gun.

“Leaving in ten minutes,” Cassian said, voice muffled through the door. “If you shoot me, you’re definitely not coming.”

I abandoned my gun, hurried across my room and opened the door. Cassian stood there in jeans, a t-shirt, and his usual black leather jacket and gloves. In one hand, he held a long, flat box. In the other hand, he held a cup of coffee. He shoved them both at me.

“It’s three in the morning, Cassian,” I said. “And how the hell did you get into my apartment? You don’t have a key.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I won’t even bother with an answer for that one.”

I took the box, glaring at him, pried the lid off and looked down. Nestled inside was a dress, sleek and black, silky smooth to the touch. I plunged my hand into the fabric and it spilled through my fingers like water.

“What is this?” I said.

“What does it look like?” Cassian replied.

A silver thread of hope gleamed somewhere in the back of my mind.

“You mean…I won’t be staying in the car this time?”

“Unless you want to.”

“No! No, this is…wait, what will I be doing exactly?”

At first, Cassian didn’t respond and I wondered, with a knot of dread heavy in my stomach, if maybe I’d pushed a little too hard again. But then he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nodded at the dress in the box.

“There’s a high profile art gala in Rome tonight. Krennic will be attending in order to receive the payment for a large shipment of weapons from a new client. You and I will be there to sabotage the deal and maybe other clients will think twice about doing business with him.”

“But we’re not taking him down?”

“Security is too tight for that. At least this way, we have a chance of hitting him where it hurts.” He started backing up towards the door again. “Next flight to Italy takes off within the hour. I expect you to be on it with me. If you’re not, I’ll have to find someone to take your place and I don’t think you want – “

“I’ll be there,” I cut in.

After Cassian left, I hugged the box to my chest. I was finally going to make a difference.

***

Cassian knocked on the bathroom door of the hotel.

“We should have been at the gala already,” he said. “What’s taking so long?”

“I’m working on it,” I replied, the bite of irritation sharp in my voice.

The dress draped like liquid over every swell and curve of my body, and yet remained relatively modest, with black lace like spider webs running across my shoulders and long pleats pooling around my ankles. How Cassian knew what size I wore without asking was another question I wasn’t likely to get an answer to. But the zipper in the back had not budged for the last five minutes, no matter what I tried.

“What’s the problem?” Cassian said.

I sighed. “Zipper’s stuck.”

“Open the door.”

“Why?”

“ _Christ,”_ Cassian breathed, drawn out and long-suffering. “I’m trying to help.”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I’ll pick the damn locks if I have to.”

“So that’s how you got into my apartment. I knew it.”

Cassian said my name in that warning tone, the one he only used when he was at the very last inch of his patience.

“You’re wasting time,” he said.

I turned the knob and popped the door open just enough to let Cassian know it had always been unlocked. He pushed the door open the rest of the way and I did a double take.

Cassian wasn’t particularly tall or broad in the shoulders, but there was something about his presence, about the way he moved, the way he carried himself that suddenly made the massive bathroom seem like a tiny space.

And yet, despite the perfectly tailored tuxedo he wore, the black leather gloves remained in place.

Cassian stepped in behind me, his gaze focused on the back of my dress that gaped open down to my tailbone. I held the front of the dress in place to prevent it from dropping straight to the floor. Even though I watched him in the mirror, I couldn’t prevent a slight flinch of surprise when the cold leather across his knuckles brushed the bare skin of my spine. He placed the flat of his palm at my waist, fingers curved just below my ribs, as he coaxed the zipper up the flimsy fabric without tearing.

Cassian rested his hands on my shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he said, softly, softer than I’d ever heard him speak before.

I met his gaze in the mirror. “Absolutely.”

He hesitated, studying me for a moment longer, before he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small pale disk.

“This is your comm,” he said. “Don’t take it out. Don’t ignore me when I give you an order. Stay in contact at all times.”

The softness in his tone had vanished and it was back to strictly business.

“Got it,” I said.

Before I could take the comm, Cassian swept my hair aside and tucked the device into my ear. His fingertips barely touched my neck but I shivered again at the shock of chilled, slick leather. His gloves seemed to be frigid all the time, an unfeeling mask firmly kept in place.

Cassian stepped back. “Weapon?”

I lifted a corner of my skirt to show the Barretta strapped to my thigh.

“Then you’re ready to go,” he said.

As soon as Cassian left the bathroom, butterflies exploded in my stomach and I put out a hand against the sink to steady myself. This was really happening. I hadn’t felt uneasy until he said those words, finalizing it. Part of me had thought he would back out at the last minute and change his mind.

Cassian returned to the doorway again. “Everything all right?” he said.

I nodded and managed to paste a brave smile into place. There was no way in hell I would admit to anyone, much less Cassian, that I was nervous.

But he seemed to…know. Somehow. I could see the understanding in his eyes and I prayed he wouldn’t tell me to stay behind after all.

Cassian said nothing. He turned slightly, held out his arm to me, and waited. He didn’t look at me, allowing me time to compose myself.

I took in a deep breath, stepped forward, and tucked my arm into the crook of his elbow.

***

The hotel’s ballroom was swathed in red velvet and trimmed in gold, lights turned low to lend a muted warmth to the atmosphere. At the front of the room, various pieces of art were lined up, auctioned off throughout the evening.

Cassian stayed by my side until Krennic arrived in a white suit with four bodyguards hovering around him.

“You good?” Cassian asked, fingers gripping my elbow. “If you’re not…”

“I’m good,” I said. “Go.”

Then he was gone. Melted into the crowd, slipped through a door on the other side of the room. And I was adrift, alone, finally in the field like I’d always dreamed of.

While I’d been getting dressed in the hotel room, Cassian had explained how the night should play out and what my part would be. He would intercept the payment – transferred the old fashioned way in a briefcase full of cash – before it reached the ballroom and Krennic. I would warn Cassian when Krennic, or any of his bodyguards, were preparing to leave in order to give Cassian enough time for a clean getaway if anything went wrong.

“How’s it going?” Cassian said, voice crackly with a faint hint of static over the comm.

I jumped slightly. “Fine. But I’m not sure I like having you in my head.”

He hummed the smallest laugh. I struggled to not show my surprise. I’d made Cassian Andor, one of the top agents at MI-6 actually laugh on the job.

“Just be glad I can’t read your thoughts,” he replied.

“Sometimes I think you can.”

A pause.

“Was that a compliment?” Cassian said, light with amusement.

Before I could respond, he hissed a curse through his teeth and a thousand scenarios of the worst possible thing that could happen ran through my mind at once.

“What is it?” I said.

“Two briefcases.”

“A decoy?”

“Or the payment was split up as a safety measure.”

I closed my eyes then reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Options?” I said.

“I’ll handle it. Focus on Krennic.”

But Krennic was showing no inclination to leave. He wasn’t interested in the auction, his back to the proceedings for most of the night.

I knew better than to bother Cassian, especially now when distraction could lead to a fatal mistake, but the silence on the other end of the comm was winding me up so tight that I couldn’t sit still.

Then Krennic turned back to the auction, arms crossed. A Chinese vase was placed on display and the bidding began. And for the first time all night, Krennic raised a hand to put his own bid up for the vase.

It took me a minute too long to put the pieces together. The price of the vase shot sky-high until eventually Krennic won, looking pleased with himself. The vase was taken off stage, tucked into a briefcase and carried out of the room.

“Cassian,” I said. “I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” he said.

“The briefcase.”

“How do you - ?”

“Krennic bid on a vase, an expensive one.”

I kept my gaze trained on the briefcase as one of Krennic’s bodyguards took it and slipped out the door heading to the kitchen.

“Your point?” Cassian said.

“He showed no interest in any art all evening except this one piece. And it’s being relocated in a briefcase.”

Cassian swore under his breath. “Do you have eyes on it?”

“One of his bodyguards has it. He went to the kitchen.”

“I’m coming. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

But I knew there wasn’t time for that. Cassian was somewhere deep in the hotel, scattered by two decoys and tight security. The briefcase was already out of my line of sight. We were losing while Krennic was scoring another tally next to his name.

I headed for the kitchen.

***

I followed the bodyguard through the kitchen, humid and swarming with activity. He ducked into a staff-only hallway that led to an alley where deliveries were dropped off. But as I turned the corner after him, the corridor was empty.

Was I too late? Was he already in the alley, briefcase in hand, and getting away?

I picked up my pace, and before I reached the door, a figure to my left shifted, separated itself from the shadows of a supply closet. I reached for my gun but before I could grab it, a hand latched onto my hair and yanked me off balance.

The bodyguard glared down at me, tall and broad and _huge_. I didn’t think, only reacted. I stomped on his instep with my heel and as I twisted out of his grip, I caught a glimpse of the gun in his hand. My elbow cracked into his nose. I pried the gun from him while he was still stunned, and pulled the trigger.

A spray of red burst like fireworks across my vision. Warm wetness spattered my skin, fine as mist. The shot screamed in my ears, deafening and high pitched. The bodyguard dropped, hit the floor with a heavy, unforgiving sound.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The gun rattled in my hands as I looked down to see blood peppered over my hands, along my arms, making my dress tacky as glue.

Cassian skidded into view at the end of the hallway and stopped. Slowly, my gaze tracked up to meet his.

Then he was surging towards me, practically a blur. He wrenched the briefcase away from the dead bodyguard with one hand and caught my wrist. I braced myself for the scolding look to come, for the stern talking-to that I knew I deserved this time.

Cassian was deadly silent as he hauled me along the corridor after him, avoiding the ballroom and any other highly populated areas.

 _Slow down,_ I thought but couldn’t say, my thoughts too slow to catch, to act on.

The door to a stairwell came into view. Cassian didn’t slow down, didn’t even pause. He slapped his hand against the door, shoved it open, and I stumbled up the stairs after him.

 _He’s pissed because I disobeyed a direct order,_ I thought. I wanted to defend myself, to explain why I did what I did, but I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs to speak.

Before I realized where we were going, Cassian had me in the bathroom of our hotel room. He fumbled at my skirts with a cold gasp of unfeeling leather along my thigh, stripped my gun from its holster, and tossed it onto a pile of towels on the counter. His own gun followed a moment later. All the while, he maintained his hold on my wrist, not bruising, but not pleased either.

He turned on the shower and pushed me under the spray. Icy water hit me full in the face and the shock of it finally got me talking.

“Cassian,” I croaked, my voice a rough, dry rasp. “Freezing.”

Still, Cassian said nothing, not even a sound of acknowledgement. He stepped into the shower after me, peeling one glove off, and I almost argued this wasn’t necessary, I was fine, but his complete silence made me swallow my words. He grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing mercilessly at my arms and hands. The water swirled wine red at my feet then faded to a blushing pink.

Cassian cupped one hand to my face, his exposed palm surprisingly warm and smooth against my cheek, as he raised my head until I looked him in the eyes. My teeth were chattering and I wanted to believe it was because of the frigid water from the shower and not the replaying memory of the gun kicking in my hand or how easy it was to pull the trigger.

Cassian’s thumb smoothed over my cheek, my forehead, wiping the blood from my face, not quite so rough this time.

 _Just chew me out already,_ I thought. _Please, get it over with._

Cassian’s gaze shifted downward and I followed his glance to see that a strap of my dress had sagged off my shoulder. My entire dress had gone limp, weighed down by the weight of the water and the fabric.

Where Cassian’s hands had never left me before, fingers clamped around my wrist, on my shoulder guiding me into the shower, washing away the bloodstains, now his hands dropped to his sides. He focused on a spot just above my head and took a step back out of the shower.

“Dry yourself off,” he said, the first thing he’d spoken since I took the shot. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and I was left standing beneath the water, shivering.

***

I shoved the dress in the trash and wrapped up in a towel before I left the bathroom in search of clean clothes. I knew I was in for one hell of a tongue-lashing from Cassian but I didn’t care. I’d succeeded. The briefcase sat by the door where he must have dumped it after he dragged me into the room. I’d saved the entire mission and I was going to be proud of that, no matter what Cassian said.

I’d left my duffle bag at the foot of the bed but I stopped when I saw Cassian seated on a chair at the other side of the room. His collar was undone, tie dangling loose around his neck, elbows propped on his knees. Lying on the table beside him were his gloves. He hadn’t put them back on after taking them off for me in the shower.

I took another step, making my presence known, preparing for a fight if necessary, and Cassian’s gaze flicked up to me.

But there was no fight in his eyes, only wariness, caution.

And the warmth of concern I’d never seen before.

“Are you okay?” he said, low and gravel-rough.

I swayed back onto my heels at that. Shouldn’t I be defending my decision by now? Shouldn’t he be ridiculing me for ignoring his direct order to stay put?

I closed my eyes, and suddenly the victory of the evening didn’t taste sweet anymore. Only sour, bitter. I would do anything to forget the blossom of red, the ruthless drop of the man’s body as it hit the ground.

I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted Cassian’s hands on me again, steady and firm and reassuring as usual.

I crossed the room, saying nothing, and came to stand between Cassian’s knees. He frowned, leaning back in his chair as if he could escape.

“What are you doing?” he said, a little sharper, not quite sure how to handle my unexpected move.

I looked down at him, tracing the line of his bottom lip with my thumb. His hand shot out, rigid at my hip. That’s all I needed, that one touch, with no leather to temper his heat.

“Don’t,” he growled through gritted teeth.

The way his fingers carved into my hip told me was lying. He wanted this just as much as I did.

“Why not?” I said. “We won tonight, not Krennic. We should celebrate.”

I sank down into his lap, straddling him, the towel riding a little too high up my thighs. My fingers drifted along the back of his neck, into the collar of his shirt, palm sliding over soft, warm skin, until my hand came to rest in the middle of his chest.

Cassian didn’t stop me, didn’t push me away, and that was answer enough.

I kissed him until I was trembling, until I could only breathe him, as if I could lose the horror of myself in another person as long as his tongue was dragging across mine and his hands, usually so cold, were burning on every inch of me he could reach.

Cassian broke away, brushing my damp hair from my face over and over.

“If we’re celebrating,” he said, “then why are you crying?”

I hadn’t felt the tears on my face until now when the breathless hitch in my ribs took hold and made me ache, hollowed out and empty.

“I’m not,” I insisted, denial the last thread of control I could cling to.

“Yes, you are,” Cassian whispered. He placed his hands on either side of my face and kissed one tear-stained cheek then the other.

I could handle getting chastising. I could handle his disappointment and his anger and his strictness.

I couldn’t handle this gentleness I didn’t deserve and it made me cry harder, a gulp of a sob jarring and loud in the space between us.

“I killed another human being, Cassian.”

“It was self-defense,” he said, low and steady. “If you hadn’t protected yourself, he would have killed you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” he admitted and he simply sounded…tired. Worn down with acceptance of that brutal fact. “Just makes it part of the job.”

I squeezed my eyes shut with a groan. “The job sucks.”

Cassian slid his hand around the back of my head, tucking me in against his shoulder. “Yes it does.”

***

In the morning, I woke to the sharp smell of coffee. Cassian was gone, along with the briefcase by the door, but there was a tray of breakfast on the nightstand beside me and a note that simply read:

_Take it easy. Be back soon._

I crawled under the covers again, one hand pressed to my forehead. Last night was hazy, indistinct. I barely remembered Cassian wrapping one of his shirts around me, buttoning it over my towel that had come loose. I barely remembered being coaxed under sheets soft as clouds while Cassian sat on the edge of the bed, his hand tight around mine, thumb skimming back and forth over the inside of my wrist.

The door clicked open and I pushed myself up, attempting to smooth my hair down into a semi-presentable state. Cassian eased the door shut behind him.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.

I shook my head. “You didn’t.”

He looked me over the same way he had when I’d left the bathroom yesterday, gauging whether I was about to fall apart or not. His usual t-shirt and jeans had been traded for a dark blue suit which meant he was still making appearances in the hotel to maintain the façade from the previous night.

But the leather gloves were back on.

“You’re dressed up again,” I said as I retrieved the coffee mug from the breakfast tray and wrapped my fingers around the soothing warmth.

He shrugged. “Precaution. A decent suit in places like this can be an all-access pass. I’ve asked around to see if all of Krennic’s men left with him last night. Coast is clear though.”

I drifted into the pillows with relief. “And the vase? It’s not here anymore.”

“Called an agent to take it to headquarters. They’ve already confirmed the payment was inside it. Krennic might have paid a small fortune to get it but he would have been reimbursed three times over.”

“Instead, he gets nothing.”

“Thanks to you.”

I set my coffee aside. “You can stop looking at me like that, Cassian. I’m fine.”

Cassian made no response but it was clear by the thin line of his lips that he disagreed.

“I’ve had a good cry,” I added. “And some breakfast.” I took a bite of toast and waved it at him for proof. “I’ll be okay.”

His gaze finally slid sideways but it was unsettling, the way he seemed to put distance between us without moving.

“When we get back to headquarters,” he said, “it’s best if you put in a transfer request.”

The toast went dry in my throat. “What?”

“You need a different handler. Someone with more patience.”

“Patience? Cassian, you – “ I stopped, shoved the toast onto my plate. “Did I really screw up that badly?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“So what are you saying?”

Cassian turned away. “You should get dressed. The car will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

As he started to leave, I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, hitting him square in the back.

“You’re lying,” I said, the hurt of that realization digging far too deep. I snatched up two more pillows, one in each fist. “I trusted you, Cassian.”

That got him to stop, shoulders rigid.

“I was a mess last night,” I continued, my voice cracking on the last word. “I couldn’t trust myself but I knew I could trust you.”

Cassian turned, jaw clenched. “Last night,” he said, dark and barely controlled, “is exactly the problem.”

My chin jutted forward, determined not to let him intimidate me this time. “Because I got emotional? Or because I disobeyed orders?”

“Neither.”

I blinked, confused. “Then why…?”

“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. If you hadn’t chased down that bodyguard, the whole thing would have been over.”

“But I…shot…”

“There was no way you could have avoided that. You were in shock. It’s normal to react the way you did after your first kill.”

I didn’t say anything, waiting for Cassian to go on. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed, his head bowed.

“You and I came too close,” he rasped, “to crossing a line we shouldn’t have even considered touching in the first place.”

I let the pillows drop to the bed. Cassian continued, his gaze trained on the floor as he spoke.

“I shouldn’t have behaved like I did. I’m your handler.”

“Doesn’t that make you an exception?” I whispered.

Cassian’s gaze flicked up to me. The certainty he’d had before, in his eyes, in the line of his jaw, in the punch of every word he chose, seemed to have slipped the slightest bit.

“You’re still in shock,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Cassian,” I said, keeping my voice even and level. “Do I look like I’m in shock?”

He paused, his gaze roaming over me, my messy hair, his shirt I was still wearing rumpled and wrinkled, collar unbuttoned low enough to leave little to the imagination.

Without looking away from me, he took a finger of his glove in his teeth and tugged it off. He sat at the foot of the bed and with agonizing slowness, peeled a corner of the sheet back to uncover my feet. He traced a careful fingertip along my ankle then stopped and glanced at me.

I caught a fistful of the sheet, pulled it aside, granting silent permission. He ran his hand the length of my leg, settling his body between my knees as he breathed a line up the inside of my thigh, the softness of his lips punctuated by the rasp of his stubble.

With one exposed hand and one gloved hand, he slipped the lowest button free on my shirt and placed a kiss at my stomach. Another button, another kiss, until he could lay the shirt open to either side of me as if he was unwrapping the most delicate gift he’d ever received.

Before he could do anything more, I took his gloved hand and worked each finger free. Cassian was still clothed while I was completely bare beneath him but without his gloves, he was more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him before.

He brushed his knuckles across my cheekbone and I turned my head to kiss his palm, skin against skin instead of leather.

“You only take your gloves off for me,” I said.

A flicker of…not quite hesitation flashed in his eyes and I took his hand in both of mine, grounding him when it seemed as if he was distancing himself again.

“I’ve always worn them,” he said. “Less tactile memories that way. Can’t feel blood, the cold metal of a gun, the lack of a pulse, when I’ve got my hands covered.”

“So…they help?”

“A little.”

I tightened my grip on his hand. It was strange, realizing that Cassian still struggled with the demands of this job when I’d only ever thought of him as unshakable in his duties, nothing touched him, nothing bothered him.

That flicker in his eyes morphed into distinct pain. This wasn’t normal and too unsettling for him, lowering his defenses to allow someone in.

I guided his hand down between my legs but he needed no encouragement to curl two fingers into me. I held onto his wrist as he sighed, closed his eyes, and seemed to melt right there. His head tipped forward and he left a feathery kiss at the hollow of my hip, his other hand gliding over my waist, my ribs. His thumb outlined the curve of my breast before brushing my chin, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of me by touch alone.

I kissed the pad of his thumb then took his hand to kiss each of his fingertips as well. And when he slipped a third finger inside me, pressing so mercilessly that I scrabbled at his shoulder as I came around the heat of his ungloved fingers.

“Still think I’m not a joy to be around?” Cassian said, so smug, the bastard.

I let out a long, slow breath, my eyes fluttering open to stare at the ceiling. “Might need a little more convincing.”

He hooked his hands behind my knees, sliding me down the bed until my legs were around his hips. But as he shrugged out of his jacket, I sat up and caught the lapels, tugging his jacket back into place.

“Leave it on,” I said, trailing kisses along his jawline.

My fingers wandered into his suit jacket, tiptoed up his ribs and found his pistol’s handle, tucked into his shoulder holster. I stripped the gun from him, his last line of defense deposited on the nightstand. He smoothed a lock of hair behind my ear so lightly, it was as if he was almost afraid to touch me now.

“Are you sure?” he said. “If you’re not – “

“I was sure the moment I was assigned to you.”

Still, Cassian hesitated, and I tugged his belt open, unzipped his fly without looking away from him. I ran my tongue along the length of his neck, nipping at his earlobe as my fingers curved around his cock. With one solid stroke, he braced a hand against the bed. With two more strokes, he was trembling as he struggled to maintain control. By the fifth stroke, he swore a single short word in Spanish and grabbed my wrist to catch his breath.

I sat back and watched as he fished a condom from his pocket, tore it open with his teeth and slid it on. Then his hands were on me again with no reservations this time, one arm wrapped around my waist as he settled me against the pillows, his hand cradling the back of my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair, slow and soothing then _pulled_ and he made the filthiest, most satisfied sound into my mouth. I hummed, triumphant, against his lips only to break off with a gasp as he teased just the head of his cock into me.

Cassian splayed his hand wide at my lower back, shifting my hips higher until he could glide so deep inside me that I was flush against him. He hitched my knee up around his waist as he propped his elbow beside me, his mouth open and wet and pure heat at my throat.

His thrusts were long and slow at first, gradually winding me tighter and tighter. He framed his body around me, his suit rough on my exposed skin, angling his shoulders over me, physically blocking out the rest of the world now that the protective barrier of his gloves were gone. But he held onto his composure with a death grip, careful and controlled as always.

I nuzzled at his neck, grazing lightly with my teeth, and still, I couldn’t get him to break. He licked at my bottom lip, a sarcastic little swipe to make me come undone even more and I sucked his tongue into my mouth in response.

That was all it took to finally get him as sloppy and desperate with need as I was. His fingernails bit into my ribs and his hips stuttered. In only two thrusts, he came, cock pulsing inside me, fingers locked in my hair, his forehead pressed to my shoulder.

Cassian blew out a shaky breath and sagged against me, soft Spanish a rush of breath across my skin, spoken so quietly I couldn’t make out anything he said. He pressed a lingering kiss between my breasts as two fingers barely brushed my clit. As I arched up into his hand, he kept his arm around my waist, kept whispering incoherent Spanish I couldn’t understand when I clutched at his back, his shoulders, his hair.

He pulled me onto his lap as I came down, peppering a thousand little kisses across my jawline, one hand at my cheek. I tipped my head to the side to give him more access as I set to work on the buttons of his shirt, my hands spanning the planes of his chest.

“Thought you liked the suit,” he said between one kiss and the next.

“I do,” I said, peeling his jacket off one shoulder. “But this is better.”

He leaned forward to brush his nose against mine and lost his balance, toppling both of us in a heap of tangled limbs and blankets and Cassian _laughed_ , such pure, genuine laughter.

***

At first, I didn’t hear Cassian’s phone ring. Neither did he since he stayed where he was, half sprawled on top of me with a lazy kiss to my shoulder.

The phone rang again and Cassian froze, fingers tightening on my ribs. He snatched his jacket from the floor, patted it down only to toss it aside and grab his pants, retrieving the phone from a pocket.

“Andor,” he said.

The conversation lasted thirty seconds but I could see the fear flare to life in Cassian’s eyes when his gaze darted to me.

“Krennic’s men are searching the hotel for us,” he said.

“I thought K took care of the security cameras?”

“Krennic worked around it, I guess. Either way, he knows what we look like. He knows we stole his money and screwed him over. We have to go. Now.”

In less than a minute, Cassian and I were in the hallway, heading towards the elevator as fast as either of us dared without drawing attention to ourselves. But I stood out in my t-shirt and jeans, a glaring beacon of _wrong_ and a dead giveaway in such an expensive place.

As Cassian turned a corner, he stopped and I stumbled into him. Four of Krennic’s men fanned out across the hallway, two men branching off at a time to check each hotel room.

Cassian took my hand and doubled back, moving faster this time until we were almost at a jog.

“We have to split up,” I said. “It’ll be harder to pin us down when we’re solo.”

He didn’t respond but I could tell by the tick in his jaw that he knew I was right.

“Cassian,” I said, my fingers gripping his forearm.

He stopped, still searching for another option that wasn’t there. Then he turned to me, cupped my face in his bare hands, gloves abandoned in the hotel room.

“Employee parking lot,” he said. “Five minutes. Do not engage if you don’t have to.”

I nodded. He inhaled a deep breath, kissed my forehead, fingers tightening in my hair for only a moment, before he released me with a slight push towards the stairwell.

***

I almost thought I wouldn’t make it. The lobby was buzzing with angry guests, indignant at the violation of their privacy. Krennic’s men were at every main entrance and I couldn’t risk attempting to give them the slip when I wasn’t dressed like the elite guest I was supposed to be.

My five minutes were nearly up by the time I found the laundry room, unguarded and unlocked. I shoved a window open, kicked the screen out and dropped to the ground.

There was the employee parking lot, half a dozen of Krennic’s men milling between the cars. Cassian stood at the far corner by his own car, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the hood. All I wanted to do was run to him but I forced myself to remain calm and work steadily towards him.

Cassian straightened when he saw me, climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, meeting me half way in the parking lot. He shoved the door open and as he came up alongside me, one of Krennic’s men shouted and a shot cracked through the air.

The bullet slammed between my shoulder blades and burrowed into the passenger seat’s cushion. I doubled over on a gasp, practically falling into the seat as Cassian grabbed my wrist, pulling me all the way into the car. He reached across me to shut the door, shielding me with his body, one arm locking me tight against his chest as he stepped on the gas, swerving out of the parking lot.

I touched two tentative fingers to the hole in my chest, felt the slick warmth of blood. Cassian nudged my hand aside and sucked in a breath through his teeth when he tugged the collar of my shirt down to get a glimpse at the wound.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he hissed and unleashed a torrent of Spanish too fast to decipher but the strain in his voice was clear enough to understand.

“English…Cassian,” I wheezed.

He took my hand and covered the bullet hole. “Put pressure on it. Stop the bleeding. Come on, you remember your training.”

He placed his hand on top of mine as my head drifted down to his forearm, the sleeve of his suit silky against my cheek.

“Think this might…be a little…out of my league.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

I wanted to laugh but all I could manage was a wet choke, struggling to draw air into my burning lungs. His hand smoothed over the top of my head, coming to rest at the back of my neck.

“Just keep your eyes open,” he said.

“And my…mouth shut. I know.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I paused, clawing at his sleeve, sinking further and further into my seat as my strength left me.

“Cassian,” I rasped.

“I’m here,” he said, glancing down at me before he returned his attention to the road. “I’m right here, love.”

“I don’t…want to transfer. To another handler.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Forget I said it, okay? It’s not happening. You’re staying with me.”

I tried to squeeze his hand but my eyes closed before I could respond. Cassian’s fingers stayed on my wrist, searching for a pulse, as he whispered over and over.

“Please stay with me.”

***

Before I even opened my eyes, I felt a hand stroking my hair away from my face. Someone said my name in a voice slightly roughened by a Spanish accent yet gentle, reverent. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see the white walls of a hospital room, to feel an ache in my chest as if a lead weight was crushing my lungs.

And there was Cassian, almost smiling, but not quite, not with the worry so dark in his eyes as he kissed my knuckles, his thumb nestled along the inside of my wrist.

“Never do that again,” he said softly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I croaked with as much sarcasm as I could.

“That mouth of yours is going to earn you an even longer suspension.”

I coughed a laugh then winced. As I tried to breathe through the pain, the full impact of what Cassian had said sank in.

“I’m suspended?”

“Just on sick leave for a few months.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Same goes for you.”

I opened my eyes to look at him and nosed against his palm.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“No field work for a while, all right?”

I nodded and slowly fell asleep again with the warmth of Cassian’s hands around mine and his lips placing a kiss in my palm.

***

I flopped into the passenger’s seat of Cassian’s car, holding out a cup of coffee to him.

“What are you doing here?” he said. He sat up to take the coffee from me. He’d started wearing gloves again as soon as I got out of the hospital and he was back on duty. “I thought I told you no field work.”

“You did,” I said, blowing on my own coffee to cool it down.

Cassian shot me a look, waiting for me to continue. I glanced at him and shrugged.

“This isn’t field work. This is staying in the car.”

He gave a faint, disapproving grunt but didn’t tell me to go home like I’d half expected him to.

“So what’s the excitement for today?” I asked.

Cassian gestured across the street to an abandoned warehouse. “Drug cartel supposedly operates out of here but there’s been no activity all morning.”

“Any word on Krennic?”

He shook his head. “In the wind. Disappeared after…”

But Cassian didn’t need to finish. I rubbed at my sternum where I could feel the raised scar from the bullet.

For a minute or two, neither of us said anything. I rested my forehead against the window, my coffee cup balanced on my knee. Then Cassian took one finger of his glove in his teeth and slid it off, curling two fingers around my wrist.

“Why do you do that?” I said.

“Do what?”

“It’s like you’re checking my pulse.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

“Questioning your handler again?”

“Yes. Thought you’d be used to it by now.”

He made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and turned away to look out the window. He said nothing for so long, tracing the rim of his cup.

“That day at the hotel,” he said. “You dropped off. No pulse at all.”

“Oh.”

Cassian picked up my wrist and kissed my pulse, a chaste, sweet kiss. I set my coffee on the dashboard, took his ungloved hand in both of mine. I would never get tired of studying his hands, the map of veins, ridges of muscles, and play of tendons. I would never get tired of feeling his skin on mine without the mask of leather.

“And before that?” I said.

“I guess it’s a reminder.”

“For…?”

“To not block you out like I do everything else.”

He was so serious, staring into his coffee that I brought his hand up and took one finger into my mouth past the second knuckle. Cassian startled and raised his gaze to meet mine as I licked across the last inch of his finger I couldn’t reach, his skin tasting of soap and gun oil and salt, before I pulled my mouth off with a _pop_ of wet suction.

As I moved on to his second finger, his lips parted and he shoved his coffee onto the dashboard without looking or caring whether it didn’t spill.

“Don’t worry,” I said, my mouth hovering over his third finger. “I’ll make sure you never block me out.”

“Babe,” he said, a small breath, a plea for mercy. “I’m…on the job here.”

I kissed the pad of his thumb, and without breaking eye contact reached behind me to click the door open and step out.

“Come and find me when you’re done,” I said. “I’ll be in your apartment.”

“You don’t have a key.”

I propped my elbows on the window and leaned in to smile at him. “I learned from the best.”


End file.
